


Old School New School

by HartwinMakethMan



Series: Kingsman 1.0 [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Kingsman 1.0, M/M, Sexual Abuse, Social Issues, Swearing, Violence, class discrimination, original character death, probably smut, the original generation, weird comedy/drama stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:00:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3821335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HartwinMakethMan/pseuds/HartwinMakethMan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy Unwin's life was turned upside down by the entry of Harry Hart and the Kingsman Service when he was at his worst. </p><p>But what turned Kingsman upside down? In the summer of 1985, Harry Hart and David MacAllistar (the man that would be called Merlin) took the establishment of the Kingsman Secret Service and built what Eggsy came to know. This is the story of the Original Generation of Kingsman, and how they brought about a revolution of technology and lifestyle that helped the service evolve with England as it entered the digital age.</p><p>(AKA the Kingsman Origins Fic of young Harry, Merlin, and eventually James and Percival)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Shoot the dog." The older man stretched in the armchair and held out the butt of the pistol to the nervous young man whose eyes had just widened in horror. 

"But-- Sir, I--"

"Harry" The man's voice was icy and the boy froze, eyes trained on the ground, eager to look anywhere but at the man with the gun, or the terrier sitting in front of the hearth. "Do it. I will not retire to the humiliation of my own son's failing." He took him by the wrist and molded his son's hand around the trigger. Harry had to force himself not to recoil from the touch, the gun heavy in his hand, as if he hadn't been trained to hold one for most of his life. "Shoot the dog. Now." 

He trained his eye on a patch of fur on the soft underbelly, trying not to think, not to look at the brown eyes that he could feel staring up at him. He took a deep breath and he knew his father's penetrating gaze was what pricked the sweat on his hairline. What did he want? He wanted-- he needed Kingsman. This job was what he'd been training for his whole life, what he'd been groomed to do since he could stand on his own two feet. 

It was... it was just a dog. It's just a dog. 

The bang and soft click of the blank gun filled the space of the old parlor. The terrier was still there, staring up at him, completely intact, if a little shaken from the noise.  
Harry released a long, relieved breath, a grin splitting the tension and he slumped in his chair. Arthur smiled proudly. The older man rose, and Harry scrambled just slightly to follow suit, straightening his training uniform and pushing a wayward curl off of his forehead. 

"Welcome to Kingsman, Agent Galahad." He reached out and shook his son's hand firmly, and Harry was sure his palms were clammy and he couldn't wipe the giddy smile off his face as he squeezed back. 

The words almost didn't seem real, as his father's eyes shone at him. Harry stood a little straighter, letting the hot air balloon of joy swell in his chest, threatening to take his feet off the floor and let him float into the air. 

He was a Kingsman agent. 

Then they heard the shot next door, and the pride Harry felt deflated. 

He was a Kingsman, but what would happen to his runner up?

"Sir?" he cleared his throat "Wh-What's to happen to David?" he couldn't keep the concern out of his tone. Arthur raised a brow, huffing out a humorless chuckle at his son's worry.

"Well, he'll go back where he came from, of course. Harry, don't get so attached." he said it like the other boy would be crawling under a rock, and Harry's chest tightened with anger.

"But he can't go back there." Harry blurted out without thinking. Arthur looked taken aback, and Harry knew he had to have a bloody excellent reason. "He- He's brilliant, I've never seen anyone like him. He can learn anything and--" he sputtered, stopping for breath and knowing that he couldn't say "If he goes back there, his father will most likely beat him to death within the year", and David would never forgive him if he said that to the boss. "... I think it would be a disservice to the agency if you let him go." 

There was a long, tense silence, and Arthur leveled his son with a skeptical glare. 

"He will be put on as an apprentice to the Quartermaster. Since, normally this would be a commuting position, he will be in the Barracks with you, and whoever else is brought in in the coming years." the older man's voice was deadly quiet and measured to the letter, and Harry's relief was dampened by his shame at disrespecting his superior. He swallowed hard before nodding an affirmative. 

"Yes Sir, thank you, Sir--"

"Galahad. If he doesn't deliver within the first 6 months of his apprenticeship, or shows any signs of insubordination to any of the agents, he will be disposed of." his eyes were ice and jaw set. Harry was glad he looked like his mother. "Don't disappoint me."

"Yes Sir." he mumbled, feeling like a child. 

"You are dismissed. Gather up your friend and move into your new Barracks." 

\----------------

It had never been easy for Harry Hart to make friends. He could say it was his social awkwardness or blame it on his bookish quietness, like his mother did, but he knew. He was just bored. The stuffy, aristocratic afternoon tea parties and suffocating croquet games exhausted him, he could just scream. 

And then he got to Kingsman, and it was exactly the same. A bunch of the same cocky aristocrats with lives just like Harry, and stories about their grandfather's hunting parties and the local tail at the debutante ball-- something Harry really could care less about. But, as he sat on the sidelines and observed the zoo, he noticed some things. 

First of all, he wasn't alone on the outskirts. There was another boy-- younger and skinnier and quieter than the rest-- who sat completely still at the edge of the bed next to Harry's. At first, he thought it best to leave the bloke alone, since he seemed most content to keep to himself. But then, the peacocks descended on the kid, fanning their stupid feathers and smiling patronizingly as they laughed at him. They started really roaring with it when the boy talked back with a thick Scottish brogue. 

Second of all, this boy was odd. Very odd. And a mystery. That was the furthest thing from boring, and Harry took to observing his habits like some sort of twisted Agatha Christie. His name was David MacAllistar. He was from Kippford, Scotland, and he was as far as one could get from aristocracy. His puppy was a Rottweiler named Angus, and he looked at the world like it was trying to bite him. He was skittish as a new horse but he learned frighteningly fast, sailing through tasks like he'd been trained as well as Harry. 

Most of all, there were scars all over him. When he first got to Kingsman, there were even fresh bruises. He slept on his back and with every muscle tensed like he was anticipating some sort of attack. 

Their path to friendship was less than smooth, to say the least. Harry skirted the edges of conversations with the boy, who was constantly bracing himself for the older boy to treat him like the others did. By the end of their first month, Harry had vowed to himself that he would look out for this kid if it meant he had to bloody adopt him, when a few of the boys decided to play a prank on David, dumping a bucket of freezing water on him while he slept one night. 

If there had ever been a doubt in his mind that David MacAllistar had suffered abuse, it was erased when he heard the first splash and woke to peels of laughter and a horrified gasp. David was sopping wet, Angus was frantically barking at the assailants and the boys were cheering and sniggering, but somehow no one seemed to notice that David was having a fit until he kicked out and clipped one of the bastard's jaw on accident as he lashed out. But then he completely withdrew. He was soaked and curled into a ball in his sheets, trembling and drawn tight as piano wire. 

"Stop it! Stop it, leave him alone!" Harry yelled, silencing the jeers until David's shallow breathing could be heard. "Can't you see you've hurt him, Dear God...." he knelt by the boy's face, trying to get him to look at him only to be met with blank eyes. He shooed the others away, now just gawking like lost children "Haven't you done enough damage?"  
Once they were safely alone, Harry gingerly reached out a hand to the boy, pressing his hand over his, only to have him jerk violently away, before seemingly noticing where he was. "David? David, are you alright? Do... do you know where you are?"

"Of course I know w-where I am-- I'm n-not bloody simple." he snapped, tugging his hand away from Harry's and sitting up on the soggy mattress, not looking him in the eye. "And- 'nd I don't need lookin' after, either." he stumbled over his words with the cold and the shock. 

"I know you don't-- but people like them won't listen to people like you--"

"Oh, and you're so different than them, aye?" he tried to laugh at him, but it sounded more like a sob. 

"Well, yes. I am." he extended a hand to the boy, pretending he didn't see the way he flinched at the movement "I'm Harry Hart."

David pursed his lips and shook the offered hand briskly and dropped it just as fast "I know who you are-- you're the one who can't pilot the jet right."  
Now it was Harry's turn to purse his lips "Yes I can, I--"

"Well, you're better than the rest of them, but you focus on the steering while you could just press a simple sequence of controls and ensure a nearly entirely smooth flight, almost totally foolproof. At least, according to my calculations. It's a system glitch in the engines I learned how to work to my advantage.... I-I can help you." 

Harry never figured that David MacAllistar would become like his brother. He had never been the type to make friends, or get attached. But now, as they unpacked their belongings into their rooms in the Agent Barracks at the end of the crazy road of training, Harry was starting to understand the benefits of a not-so-solitary lifestyle.


	2. Chapter 2

When one thinks of the word "barracks", this is hardly what comes to mind. When that word is spoken, typicallly images of concrete, steel bunks, and war zones are the images you think of. The top floor of the West Tower in Kingsman HQ was hardly a war zone. These were most certainly not "barracks". Harry supposed he could understand that Kingsman was a foundation of military men and certain forms of those traditions often made themselves known in the names and titles found at HQ. The name of Harry and David's new home made sense, then. But, living here still seemed a bit like living in a museum. 

Harry wasn't unaccustomed to wealth and gilded tea rooms. Not in the way David was, walking around on egg shells like he was going to break everything in sight by breathing too hard. But, Harry's family manor had even had a vague element of durability. The Barracks were downright uncomfortably beautiful and baroque, and uniquely built in a hexagonal shape with spacious private bedrooms around a common room. 

It was certainly more than live-able, but the decor might be dated by a couple centuries. 

"There's no reason to worry, David, just be--"

"Be myself? Harry, are you fuckin' serious? I'd like to keep my job, thank you." the Scot gave his friend a sidelong glance over his spectacles while eating breakfast that morning. 

"No, actually. That would be a terrible idea-- I was going to say that you should keep your head down and focus on your work. Make yourself useful, so my dad and whoever is taking over for him will have nothing to sack you for." Harry snarked through a bite of toast, hiding the seriousness of his advice with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "But, yes, you should be yourself. To an extent. Don't be the you that's around me, that's a bit much. But, be a polite, filtered version of you." 

David rolled his eyes and swallowed the last of his tea, before shouldering his bag and standing. "Well, I oughta be down there by now, since I don't know where in the bloody hell I'm going." 

"Maintain some level of that thing called "being a gentleman", we discussed--"

"Fuck you, Agent Galahad." Merlin chuckled, calling over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him. Harry smiled to himself, looking down out the window over the grounds, immediately wishing David was back to distract him and cure the nervousness that fluttered back up in his gut.

\---------------

This was the craziest, stupidest, most terrifying thing he had ever done. 

Given, David MacAllistar, as with most kids who grew up with an abusive parent, had a different definition of terror than most 18 year old boys. But, this was bloody terrifying. At least at home he knew the boundaries. He knew how to dodge the fists and broken bottles, and he knew when to stand and take them like a man. David knew the ins and outs of his home, and as weird as it sounded, he almost missed it. 

Here, he was a fish out of water. The toddler trailing mud on the carpet of this glittering capital, and he couldn't go anywhere without feeling like he was being stared at like some zoo animal. 

He missed the anonymity of belonging, like he had at home. 

He missed his mother. God, he worried about that woman. She was so waify, he swore one day she'd just blow away with the wind, always ill, and always working herself to the bone. He wondered if she was okay, now that David wasn't home to block his father's hits. They'd written back and forth through training, of course, but he knew how much she lied, just to keep him from crowding her, and worrying, trying to take care of her---

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a very solid wall of suit, and the flutter and clap of files spreading across the floor. A startled shout echoed across the corridor. David wanted to melt into the floor immediately. 

"Would you watch where you're going? You've made a bloody mess--"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." he was shaking, he knew he was shaking and he willed his hands to be just a bit steadier. He couldn't help but think of the consequences-- could they fire him for just this? Would this man beat him? If he got all the rest right, could he stay? He loved his mother, he loved Scotland, but he needed to be here--

"Wait, wait. Who are you, Boy?" David swallowed the panic spilling up his throat like bile and looked up and met the cold brown eyes from where he knelt on the floor, scrambling to pick up the fallen files. 

"Um-I.. I'm David, I'm the new apprentice to the Quartermaster." He said, pleased at his ability to keep his voice level and steady. The man-- about his height, but barrel chested and broad, with cold eyes, and a salt and pepper goatee-- pursed his lips and nodded as if that explained everything. Suddenly, David wasn't quite as scared as he was righteously indignant, anger tingling to the tips of his ears. 

"Right." He said it with a snap in his lips, like he was holding back a laugh "Well, you're headed to the lab then. You might as well take these with you, that's where I was taking them in the first place." he gestured to the expanse of files with a big hand, and David would go to his grave claiming he didn't flinch. The agent didn't mention it, if he saw it. 

By the time he got to the Lab, he was nearly 5 minutes late, very flustered, and very glad he'd left early. The moment he got in, he set down the files on the nearest flat surface. Then he looked up, and his breath caught in his throat.

It was beautiful. A bloody mess, yeah, and cluttered to all Hell, but it was so beautiful. Files just like the ones he'd brought in lined the walls, sometimes in stacks from floor to ceiling, and there were three long tables lining the far walls, one with numerous chemicals and beakers, one with a massive window out to the jet hanger, and one crowded with a massive computer.  
Then, there was a girl, not much older than him, with unruly, honey colored waves piled on her head and big goggles on to shield her eyes from the test tube of something viscous and bright blue in her hand. She didn't see him, absorbed in her work of trying not to spill the liquid. She bit her bottom lip when she was focusing, scrunching her nose to keep the goggles from sliding down the delicate bridge, and it made David smile for some reason, he couldn't quite explain.

"You're late." came a brisk and sudden voice behind him. Both he and the girl jumped-- almost shattering the vial of chemical. He whirled around on his heel, meeting an older woman with severely pinned hair and a leather apron. There was a smudge of motor oil on her high cheekbone, but it did nothing to make her less stony and serious as she stared at him with cool eyes and a raised brow. 

"Y-Yes, I am. I ran into some files.... the agent attached to them was l-less than pleased." he smiled nervously, looking sheepishly at her. "I'm sorry, Mam."  
If anything her brow rose higher. "You are?"

"David, Mam." 

She nodded sagely "You're Scottish, David." There was no malice behind it, not even a question. It was a mild statement, and he didn't quite know how to respond. 

"Yes. You're a woman." It was bold, but he refused to regret it. All he had to do was look at her to know this was his new boss-- this had to be the Quartermaster. 

She humored him with half a smirk "Yes. Do we have a problem?"

"Problem? I think it's bloody brilliant." he grinned, finally having some excitement to add to the nervous patter in his chest. She grinned back, and extended her hand to shake. David immediately took it firmly.

"So do I, David. I'm Merlin." she gestured to the girl behind them "That's Felicity, don't expect words out of her right now, she's been saying she's on the edge of a breakthrough for the past week." the older woman beckoned him through, grabbing the files he brought in and bringing them further into the lab, when one fell right off the top. David ducked to grab it, reading the tab as he brought it over to the steadily growing stack Merlin was adding to. It read: Dr. Sweetham, Terrance with an X penned in next to the name. 

"Who's Terrance Sweetham?"

"I haven't the foggiest. So," she turned to face him again, eyes glittering now. "So, what can you do, David?" 

"Um, well... anything you want me to, I suppose. I can learn just about anything."

"Well that's nice, but what can you do already?" 

"M-Mechanical engineering is what I spend the most time with, I suppose. But I'm good with just about anything with wires or an engine." he stated, standing a little taller because this was what he knew and he knew he could do it with a stick of gum and a paperclip if he had to. 

Merlin was nodding again, and he wasn't sure if he should be afraid or excited by the look of fiery determination and joy in her eyes "Give me an example."

He stopped short "An-an example?" 

"Yes, an example." she stared him dead in the eyes and gestured vaguely to the room. 

"Um-- Computer. You have a computer. I can get all of these files into it, free up space, and compress the actual machine to about half the size. It'll operate faster, smarter, and it'll be safer. I think, if my calculations from home are accurate, I can get it to transmit live video feeds as well." He was probably supposed to stop there, but at this point he couldn't quite help himself. "And your jets are malfunctioning-- or, whichever one was used for training was."

"What?" a new voice interrupted, and the girl-- Felicity, he reminded himself-- had turned away from her chemicals. Her eyes met David's, and he felt rooted to the spot. They were like scotch in firelight and her brow furrowed with confusion at his words. He stumbled to follow what she was saying. "Those are the planes I watch after, what's so wrong with them?" 

"Well-- uh, Well, they have a glitch in the air turbines that changes the distribution of air. I noticed, though, while flying in training, that through changing a few settings in the cockpit, it actually makes for a smoother flight, more consistently." he watched her face change to relief and it was the only thing more capitivating then all her other emotions. He could watch her smile like that all day, it was like sunshine spreading through the room. "You might want to check up on them some time soon, but it doesn't seem to be a current, pressing matter." 

There was a moment where he and this Felicity girl were just looking at each other, and he didn't feel any time pass. If he wasn't as sensible as he was, David would say it was magic. She was looking at him like he was something to figure out, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn't too scared of that. 

Merlin cleared her throat pointedly. "Well, you both have work to do-- hop to it. David, I'm sure anything you need will be arranged over in the drawers to the far wall. You can start with the computer." 

He snapped over to look at the woman and found a familiar raised eyebrow and knowing smirk. He nodded. 

"Yes, Mam." He took a deep breath, and mentally shook himself, the clouds returning over him as he saw Felicity turn back to her work. 

He could never even begin to entertain whatever the Hell this was. The filthiness of who he was compared to these people wrapped itself around him with a suffocating need to clean himself, to do all he could to become a part of the computer and fade from the reality of the beautiful girl at the adjacent desk. 

He grabbed a screwdriver and a sautering iron, flipping open a journal of his hypotheses and set to work in a delicate dance with the machine he knew he could understand. 

\---------------

The shooting range was truly an epic sight to see. It was a massive expanse of concrete and glass, and the arsenal was unlike anything he'd ever seen. It was organized to the point of obsession, like most things at Kingsman, and Harry observed the wall, pleased that he could recognize just about everything. There were semi automatics and pistols, with case upon case of ammunition, cleaned within an inch of their lives and ready to fire at a moment's notice. There were piano wires, and throwing stars, and pepper spray-- but then there were a few things, safely behind glass, that Harry was sure must have been some sort of joke: an oridinary looking fountain pen, a pocket watch, a standard black umbrella, and a gold lighter. Confused, he tried to get a closer look, pressing his hand against the glass and stooping over to peer in at the objects--

"You don't recognize them, do you?" a deep voice echoed through the concrete space, and Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as the sharply dressed man clicked across the floor in his immaculately shined oxfords. The door slammed behind him, echoing as well. 

"Well, one typically doesn't just place ordinary household objects behind reinforced glass with the arsenal for no reason, I'm assuming." he replied as the agent came up beside him. 

"You assume correctly. Arthur's boy, I presume?" He held out a hand to shake, and Harry took it, trying to hide the way his smile strained at mention of his father. 

"Galahad, yes. And, you are Lancelot." he stated, not needing to phrase the question. There was no one else for this man to be. 

"Yes, I am." he smoothed an imaginary crease in his pinstripe navy suit, eyes impassive and cool as he looked Harry up and down appraisingly before meeting his gaze, unwavering and intense. "Do you know why I've asked you to meet me here?" he asked blandly, and Harry was getting the prickling feeling that he was bored.

He looked around the room, searching for something out of place, some reason for them to be in the shooting range. There was no way it was to see him shoot, Lancelot had no doubt seen his weapons scores. He shrugged after a moment, and Lancelot raised an eyebrow. 

"I haven't a clue, Sir." Harry replied as blandly as possible to hide his embarrassment. 

Lancelot huffed a laugh, and smiled sarcastically. Harry swallowed his humiliation and anger, but refused to break eye contact. "It's in the case." he placed a hand on top of the glass and looked at him like Harry was the simplest creature he'd ever met. "You're a Kingsman now, Boy, but you aren't an agent. Not until I say so. First, there are a few things you have left to learn." 

Harry barely resisted rolling his eyes, and Lancelot's jaw clenched, eyes going hard and quietly furious. 

"First lesson: Manners maketh man. Do you know what that means?" The younger man floundered for a second, but Lancelot didn't wait for him to catch up. "It means that being the son of the boss doesn't earn you a single bloody thing, because you are only as good as you treat others." he gripped Harry's wrist on top of the case "Second: You may have come out on top in training, but you are not a true Kingsman until you understand and can use these four objects. The pen is a dart-- injects the target with enough neurotoxins to kill a grown elephant. The umbrella is a gun. And a shield. Then there is the watch, a video camera and tracker that follows your missions and records them, so Arthur knows where you are and what you're doing on the job." he sighed at the end of his speech, and Harry kept up his blank mask, taking in everything his handler said. "Now, if you have any questions, make them quick-- we have a mission in Cuba at the end of the week. We have a lot to do before then, if you're going to be ready."

"S-Sir, what's the lighter? Some sort of electrocution device?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It's a hand grenade." Harry did a double take between the case and his handler, who looked thoroughly amused, and the shock was the only thing overriding the indignant rage swelling in his chest at the patronizing look. "Now, we don't have all day, Mr. Hart. Shall we begin?"


	3. Chapter 3

The humidity of midnight in the South Pacific was oppressive, and Harry was sweating a bit under the collar of his new Kingsman suit as he and Lancelot slipped through the shadows of the massive garden. The woman whose house they were sent to infiltrate was said to be operating a brothel of young teens, even selling mail-order brides as far as the U.S., and it was Harry's first mission. 

Not solo mission, as Lancelot continually insisted he was completely unprepared for. Harry swallowed around the bitterness that rose in his throat at the thought, limbs suddenly itching to run, fight, do something to prove to his handler that he wasn't just here because of his father. 

The high, ornamental grasses and decorative trees along the garden wall provided excellent cover as they crept closer to the house. 

"Alright then--" Lancelot whispered hoarsely to him "We've got 10 minutes before the guards make their way through our path to the study. We need to be fast: get the intel, get out." 

Harry nodded, focusing on the dark window of the room they were meant to get to. He'd studied the maps and blueprints in the mission file for what felt like ages, and he was ready. Lancelot's intense gaze followed every step he made, and Harry willed himself not to be nervous. 

They moved in quickly and silently, slipping through the halls like shadows on their way to the office at the top of the back staircase. Things were going well when they reached the study, and Harry kept watch as his handler picked the lock, and the door swung open with a creak that seemed inordinately loud in the silence of the hallway. Harry knew they were far away from where the typical "business" happened, and there was a very slim chance they were being heard, but he still had to breathe deep to calm his heartbeat when the sound echoed just slightly down the corridor. 

"You get in and find the book-- I'll keep watch." Lancelot whispered, not even looking at Harry as he gestured inside. 

The room was nothing but shadows and the moats of light from the midnight moon. The desk by the window seemed the most logical place, and Harry went straight to it, opening every drawer, for any sign of the little black address book they needed. Harry and Lancelot had been sent in search of the client list and transactions of Arunprapa Ratree-- the woman selling these kids. 

It was nowhere. The book wasn't in the desk, it wasn't in the file cabinets against the far wall, there were no safe boxes behind paintings or tapestries. His palms were clammy-- Lancelot was giving him his chance to prove himself. Harry had worked for so hard for this, he was on the verge of panic. 

"Where are you, Boy?" Lancelot's hushed voice splintered into the quiet of Harry's rustling papers and opening drawers. 

"I-I don't know if it's here." he stumbled out, hating the pit of embarrassment and shame in his gut as he whispered back. He stepped back into the light at the door, meeting Lancelot's furrowed brow. 

"What do you mean--" The click of the gun at the end of the hall echoed like the door had earlier, and Harry saw the guard wielding it barely a second before he jumped into action. Grabbing Lancelot by the tie, he gave a near violent tug, and pulled his handler into the study and slamming the door just as many things happened at once. 

The gun fired with a familiar bang, the wood of the study door splintered and flew. Harry pushed Lancelot out of the way just as a blinding pain shot through his leg. He might have shouted out from the pain, he couldn't hear himself think. Lancelot was calling his name-- No, he was calling him Galahad, and Harry would grin if he could manage it. He blinked the room back into focus, reteaching himself to breathe, and the guards were banging at the door. Lancelot had moved a filing cabinet in front of it, and then Harry saw it. 

There was a little black book on the floor where the filing cabinet had been. Taking a breath, Harry heaved himself up to sitting, only to be stopped. 

"What the bloody Hell are you doing?" strong hands grip his shoulders, and his handler is glaring at him. 

"It's- it's t-there... The book, Lancelot...." he pointed weakly, using all his energy to ensure that they returned to HQ with the intel. The man turned to follow Harry's finger, seeing the book and going to retrieve it. 

The young agent took the moment to assess the damage making his leg throb. 

The blood was what made it look so bad. The entirety of his thigh was covered with hot, dark blood, but when he truly looked, it wasn't bad-- just a graze. Harry closed his eyes and focused, then, pulling himself painstakingly to his feet with the study chair. Lancelot ran to his aid, just as the guards broke the top of the door. 

"Window. Galahad, we're going to jump out the window. Come on." 

If you asked him what happened next, Harry wouldn't be able to say. All he remembered was the pain, and the vague sound of the jet engines. 

\----------------

The shrill tone of the heart monitor brought him to wakefulness, staring up into a sterile, white light. The headache was the worst part, until he felt the stabbing pain in his thigh. The memories of the mission washed over him and Harry couldn't recede back to the warmth of unconsciousness due to the disrupting sounds and sudden wall of pains and aches. 

"Harry." the commanding voice was instantly recognized, and Harry's eyes popped fully open into the brightness of what had to be the infirmary. 

Lancelot was standing at the foot of his bed, arms crossed and blue eyes like chips of ice. Harry couldn't help but feel slightly cowed, but he held the older agent's gaze defiantly. He knew what he did, and he wouldn't change his choice. 

"Lancelot." He replied, keeping all cheekiness out of his tone for the sake of being a gentleman.

"You were shot." he stated, knowing very well that Harry knew this. 

"I saved your life." the "you're welcome" that Harry would say to anyone else, went unspoken for all but a raised eyebrow. Lancelot heard it loud and clear, however, and he raised a brow back at him, chewing the inside of his cheek. 

"Yes. Yes, you did." he dropped his gaze and sighed, approaching the bed and pulling out a file from his suit jacket and handing it to Harry. "This is your first solo mission-- in the States, I believe. It's in a bit shy of a month, so rest up, Galahad." 

Galahad. 

Harry's leg suddenly didn't hurt so badly, his head swam with the whiplash from cadet to agent to trainee again. He could feel his entire body tingling with pride, spreading through from his toes to every inch of him. He was a true agent now. He wasn't just his father's son, he didn't buy his position-- he was Galahad. 

"Y-Yessir, Thank you, Lancelot. I--"

"Daniel." He cut him off, extending a hand to shake. It caught Harry off guard, but after a moment, he gripped the hand back and shook it firmly. "I owe you, Harry Hart. I don't like being in debt to people." he smiled a wry little half grin "Thank you."

Harry nodded, his hair flopping slightly into his eyes. His ex-handler strode to the door of the infirmary room, turning at the threshold. "Read up on that file, Boy. Can't have anyone thinking I taught you wrong."

"Manners, Sir." Harry chastised sarcastically. The older man simply rolled his eyes and was gone. 

\----------------

It was a beautiful day out. The sun shone bright across the countryside, and the green of the grass and robins egg blue of the September sky made everything seem a bit more vibrant. Felicity hated days like these.

She loved her position at Kingsman. Could it be made infinitely better by becoming actually recognized by the Service? Yes. It really, really could. But, she loved working with Merlin, and she loved what she was capable of when she was alone with her chemicals and tools. 

What Felicity hated about her job was that these beautiful, late summer days were never able to be fully enjoyed. She was stuck in her box with her chemistry set, and the world was passing by. If she was an agent, she could go out. She could take the Tube into the city, she would be able to prove her strength to all the old men that she knew were laughing at her and looking at her, and her father wouldn't treat her like she was constantly about to break. The beauty of the day only served to remind her that she lived in a gilded cage. 

She craned her neck to look at the strip of sunlight at the end of the jet hanger in the window and sighed before looking back down at her project. The beakers of swirling chemicals were starting to fizz and sputter, and Felicity suddenly felt a slight headache coming on. She'd been working for longer than 5 hours. Perhaps, it was time to take a break. 

Looking up and around the lab, she fixed her eyes on the new kid (Daniel? Darius? David!), walking in the door with arms full of files. A couple fell off the top of the pile as he dropped them on his desk-- currently an unholy mess of circuit boards and the dismantled shell of the computer-- and she met his eyes for a moment and gave him a mild smile before reaching down to pick up the papers he'd dropped. 

"Oh- oh thanks." his thick accent lilted, he sounded a bit nervous. He always seemed a bit nervous, and Felicity didn't get what was so intimidating about her and Merlin. But, it seemed like David was almost always scared, or aloof, or something. "I guess I'm pretty clumsy." 

"No, you aren't. It happens." That was another thing: the self deprecating comments thrown around like they were nothing. She didn't quite understand the boy.

He was wary, and quiet, and completely brilliant. Felicity wanted to get it, she wanted to know what the Hell was going through David's mind, and was driving her crazy how much he seemed to not like her. 

She wasn't one of those people that needed the attention and adoration from everyone in the whole bloody world. Felicity King had zero interest in pleasing anyone but herself and the select few that she respected and admired. Like Merlin, and Kingsman, and-- apparently-- David the new kid. 

And it was hard to earn his approval. Given, he didn't know she was looking for it, and maybe he was just as reserved as he seemed, but she doubted it. There was something in his eyes, and the way he moved and talked, that practically vibrated with potential energy that he refused to act on. Part of her wondered what would happen if he did, but she tamped down those thoughts fairly quickly. 

"I was about to go for a walk-- take a break for a mo'. Care to join me?" she asked without a thought. It was stupid to pretend she didn't like him, at least a little bit. He was very handsome, brilliantly intelligent, and she'd like to think he was kind. She'd love to just be his friend. It had been so long since she'd had a friend.

It was a rather blunt, but an entirely innocent offer. David, however, didn't seem to understand. "I've- um- I've got a ton of work to do, maybe some other time." David didn't look at her, talking a little fast. He didn't even consider it, and irritation sparked in her like a firecracker. 

"Oh. That's fine. What are you doing, exactly?" she replied, brushing off the annoyance in favor continuing to hear that beautiful Scottish accent. 

"I'm modifying your computer to be able to hold all these files, and compressing the actual machine-- hopefully to about half the size." he pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses, and Felicity smiled at the effortless motion. 

"You're rather peculiar, you know that?" 

He raised an eyebrow at her then, fixing her with his hazel-eyed gaze "Thank you, I suppose?" 

"I mean, you're awfully smart, you seem nice enough- though, "seeming nice" often means nothing, and you're very pretty." His eyes went wide then "But, you're so quiet. There's nothing wrong with that, mind you-- But, in the weeks since you've gotten in, you've barely said more than ten sentences." she leaned against his desk and let her lips spread into a genuine smile "If I had come from such a completely different life and been thrown into Kingsman, I would never stop blathering on. Good luck stopping me." She giggled and even managed to get a half a laugh out of David, but she could see it was forced. He was trying to be nice. 

Her smile slipped a little. 

"Well, I'll let you get to work on that computer, then." David's expression was relatively impassive, but she could have sworn she saw a hint of relief in the set of his shoulders. Her heart sank a little, but she didn't let it get to her. "If you... If you ever need an extra set of hands-- you know where to find me." Felicity gestured vaguely to her own empty desk, backing up towards the door. And then something magical happened.

He smiled. It was small, and timid, and one of his front teeth was just slightly crooked, but the gratitude was clear. 

"You as well. I'm no good with chemistry, but basics I can handle.... if-if you need, that is." the affection snuck up on her and swelled up in Felicity's chest. This was possibly the cutest human being she'd ever met. 

"Yeah, I'm sure I'll taking you up on that, David." her back bumped up against the door, and she opened it without taking her eyes off the boy in front of the computer. "Bye." 

"Bye... Felicity." he said it like his mouth was trying out the word, and she closed the door behind her with a beaming grin. 

She'd only been headed toward the grounds for a few minutes before she felt someone come up beside her. Not letting herself get her hopes up, and reminding herself that what she really wanted was a friend, 

Felicity looked over to see a smirk and a familiar raised eyebrow. 

"Expectin' someone else?" Merlin quipped. The young woman rolled her eyes and sighed. 

"Maybe-- just a hope, I guess. He doesn't seem to like me too much." the balloon in her chest began to deflate "He wasn't awfully responsive." 

"That's because he didn't know you were flirting. He likes you just fine." her mentor replied, sliding an arm through Felicity's as they stepped into the sunlit gardens. "In fact, he seems a bit taken with you. What on Earth would your father say?" Merlin's voice dripped with sarcasm, and Felicity laughed.

"When have we ever cared?"

"True enough. But, really? The gangly Scottish farmboy? Chester may just keel over at the thought..."

They walked in silence for a while, breathing deep in the country air, and Felicity broke away from her friend, running across the field in what her father would most certainly call "Undignified fashion". Merlin called after her, but the younger woman caught sight of her target and bolted for it. 

The great tree by the edge of the side garden made for just the right amount of shade on the cloudless day, and she flopped into the grass the moment she breached the cover of the canopy. Merlin trudged up behind her, huffing a bit, but mostly laughing, gracefully lowering herself to sit beside her on the grass. 

"That looked invigorating." she commented dryly. 

"It always is, Merlin. How often do we get a day like this in England-- we are famous for our rain. The real question is: how often do I get to be a part of them?"

"You can leave me for the great outdoors at any time, Lissy, you know that." the older woman chastised. Felicity sighed in return. 

"Yes, I know, I don't like to think about it." she groused. The fact that she wasn't an actual Kingsman employee, only there because of her father's connection to the service and because no one would nominate her to be a cadet, felt like acid in her bones. Knowing that she belonged here, but having no one else willing to acknowledge it. "That's all the more reason that I need to be there. I've got to prove myself every day to these agents, and if I'm not doing my job, I'm just a girl living off her father's salary and connections."

Merlin sighed. "Yes, but-- no matter what you do they will condescend to you."

"Umm, yes. How comforting, Merlin, thank you."

"Don't you start with me, Felicity King, you let me finish." she snapped, a bit of her Northern accent invading the carefully cultivated, posh one she used at work. "What I was saying is: They will always treat you as lower than them, so there is no reputation to maintain. Whatever it is, they wouldn't respect you for it. Do what you want while you're young, Lissy. And do it when you're old too. These posh old men will always treat you the same." 

The thought of that, that liberating rush of not caring, burst like a dam, and suddenly, Felicity felt like she could run all over again. 

So, she did.

It wasn't until the walk back to the lab that Felicity remembered something "What did you mean, that David didn't know I was flirting? I was pretty obvious, except for touching him. He seems a little jumpy, I didn't think he'd take too well to that..."

Merlin huffed a laugh "Jumpy, indeed, that's David. He's just got his head in his work-- he's a brilliant boy, don't know where they found him. But, he's a bit disconnected. If you gave it a go outside of the lab, he would be a bit more receptive, I gander." Merlin winked at her, and Felicity gave a smirk at the thought of those intense hazel eyes and tousle of dark hair "However, David hasn't been here long and... Well, you seemed right not to touch him. He doesn't appear to like that much, and he's not one for personal conversation either. At least, that's how he appears." The pair stopped at the lab door, and Felicity went to open it, eager for another shot, only for a familiar, callused hand pause the motion. 

"Felicity, just a moment, Dear." she looked at her with complete seriousness "Wherever he's from, David is not like us. He's nervous, and jumpy, and just a touch defensive. My advice to you, no matter if you're looking for friendship or otherwise, is to give it time. We don't know his life or what he's seen, and we bloody well can't assume it's been just like ours." she smiled a little sadly, and removed her hand from hers. "I know you get lonely, Lissy, and he's a lovely boy. Just a bit shy, I believe. Get to know him." 

Felicity nodded, accepting the duty with a twinkle in her eye. She had no one to impress, she had no reputation to protect. She was free and entirely herself, and she bloody well liked the new guy. 

\---------------

The walk down to the infirmary involved a familiar, and strangely comforting amount of staring at his shoes to avoid any eye contact with superior agents. David couldn't possibly handle another situation like that, not with his head still reeling. 

Felicity King was absolutely lovely. Felicity King thought he was "very pretty". 

Her eyes were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen, like firelight and hot chai and scotch, and she smelled like liliac and burnt sugar. She had talked to him, she had asked him to walk with her, she must be dreadfully confused. 

Or, maybe she was completely in her right mind, and he was just trying to protect himself. 

Room 105 was open when he arrived, not even bothering to knock before stepping straight into the spacious hospital room. 

"I see you still forget to knock." Harry's mild, sardonic voice commented. he was buttoning his shirt as he sat up at the edge of the bed, but he was smiling at his friend. David felt a slight amount of his discomfort wash away at the sight of him, alive and (somewhat) well. 

"I see you're not dead." David replied without missing a beat, moving over to the chair across from his friend. "H-How are you? What happened? Can I help?"

"Please, slow down, David. I'm fine: I grazed my leg, that's all--"

"On your first mission? This better not become a bloody tradition."

"Whoa, whoa. Down boy, I didn't do it on purpose. And Yes, you can help. You can help me get back up to the Barracks, I have a file to read." Harry grinned then, and David quirked an eyebrow.

"A file of what?" He prompted, since Harry was clearly dying to tell him. 

"My first solo mission." He was nearly vibrating with excitement, David thought he might take off like a rocket.

"Lancelot's letting you fly the nest-- Congratulations, Harry." He smiled at the other boy, wanting to be excited like he was, and it would certainly be contagious under other circumstances, but a wall of exhaustion and prickle of anxiety sapped his strength as he remembered that he supposed he had news too. 

Harry noticed "What's the matter? Is everything okay?" 

"Yeah, I... I think so." he huffed out a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses, pulling them away like they were on fire when he remembered he'd done that in front of Felicity today. "I don't really know, Harry." he hoped it didn't sound too much like a plea, he wanted the sentence to sound a touch more aggravated. 

"Alright. Okay, explain for me." He smiled encouragingly and David wasn't sure if he wanted to punch him for that or not. 

"I... You remember the girl from the lab?" he began, eyelids a little heavier with the night. Harry nodded. "She was... I think she might have been flirting with me today."

He looked up at his friend after a moment, who looked completely nonplussed. 

"And then what? That's it?" he replied before giving a little laugh "I thought you were going to say something bad. Flirting's good, is it not?" He replied with a furrowed brow, his hair flopping into his eyes. David just shrugged. Harry sighed. "Alright, yes or no answers, let's discuss: Do you like her?"

"I well-- yes."

"Is she being nice?" 

"Yes" 

"Do you enjoy her company?" 

"Ye-Yes, I guess--"

"There is no guess. If you do, you do." 

"Okay, I do."

Harry smiled. David felt mildly accosted. 

"This is my advice to you: just be her friend. Talk to her. It can never hurt to get along with your coworkers, and you already like her." He must've looked like he was about to throw up, because Harry rolled his eyes rather dramatically "Just be her friend, you don't need to go in planning for marriage. Just talk to her."

"I wasn't planning for--"

"Good. That would be fucking stupid. Now, could you help me get up to the Barracks, please, David? I'm exhausted, and you look like you're ready to drop." 

They helped each other up to the West Tower, moreso then David helped Harry.


	4. Chapter 4

The next weeks passed in a blur of turning leaves outside and the fumes within the lab. David spent his days working on the computer, sautering circuit to circuit and rearranging wires until his back ached and his eyes were dry and stinging behind his glasses. He could feel the concerned eyes of Merlin on him at every turn, and he was ready to tear his hair out.

He had also been helping Felicity with her beakers and test tubes, hanging on her every word. She certainly knew what she was talking about, and there was never a wasted word. Every chemical and element and reaction she taught him about was concise and fascinating and her eye sparkled with excitement when she talked about her latest projects. There was something more than a little bit enchanting about her fire and drive.

Naturally, he kept her at a distance, unsure what she was offering or even what he wanted. But it was nice to have a friend aside from Harry, who he could talk to about his work with. Felicity was good company. 

Every night when he got back to the Barracks, Harry gave him a vaguely amused, purse-lipped look at David's glazed look and flushed cheeks. 

"Working hard, David?" 

"Almost there with those circuit boards." he smirked dryly, ignoring the raise of his friend's eyebrow. 

Life was pretty good, considering where he'd come from and how people treated him here. David had lost count of all the agents who had found it in their gentlemanly hearts to sneer at him as he walked by, or ram into his shoulder as they passed him. It rattled his whole body with a shock of panic, remembering his father's shouting and his mother's crying, the old scars crisscrossing his back and his body would throb dully for the rest of the day. He'd putter around the lab, making stilted small talk with Felicity and Merlin as he worked, trying not to think about how much more exhausted he would be tomorrow, after whatever dream came that night. 

The dreams. The dreams wouldn't go away, and even when he didn't see him all day, David knew that when he woke up gasping in his room, Harry would be sitting by the window with a glass of water in hand. David would cry. It snuck up on him sometimes, but every time David and Harry both knew he would take three shuddering breaths before the sobs would take over. Harry would hand him his ridiculous, fucking embroidered handkerchief, dutifully not touching him. Not after watching how his friend would lash out during training. He was just a presence-- a comforting, gentle presence while the younger boy cried and trembled. He'd wait until he'd calmed down reasonably, and they'd have a smoke together-- David considerably moreso than Harry-- sitting on David's bed in the Barracks where he was safe from the shouting and the bottles thrown at the wall and the goddamn hands that haunted and nauseated him. 

They never discussed it in the mornings.

He was exhausted. David was ready to drop, and he couldn't stop thinking about it. Every time he closed his eyes, or someone got too close, he was jumping awake and panic gripped his chest. He was okay at hiding it at work. He just needed to be bloody well left alone

Of course, he still peeled himself away from his computer for Felicity's sake. David couldn't stand the blank mask of hurt and disappointment that he knew would cloud her beautiful eyes if he said no. The steady stream of small talk from her lips was soothing, too, if he was perfectly honest. 

With Harry preparing for his first mission, and his leg nearly healed, David was seeing him less and less. So, he spent more time working, hunched over his computer long after Merlin and Felicity left for the day, trying to just stay awake. He'd burned his hands so many times on the sautering iron, David was starting to feel like one, human sized blister, and his eyelids still drooped like weights over his dry, stinging eyes.   
David was erasing a part of his calculations in his notebook to modify it for the computer, when sleep crept up on him, tugging him down into the darkness. 

Looking back later, he supposed he must've made quite the sight, curled up over his notebook, pencil dropped from his hand and glasses pressed against the bridge of his nose. When Felicity and Merlin came in that morning, they were shocked, to say the least. David was sleeping fitfully, hunched over his desk with his brows knit together, jaw clenched and lips set in a frown. He might have whimpered, cried out in his sleep, because Merlin cautiously stepped over, shooing Felicity over to her desk, and crouching beside the dreaming boy. 

"David." she cooed, hoping the sound could wake him "David?" 

"He's having a nightmare." Felicity whispered behind her, watching his sides heave with heavy breaths, like he was running, a tear squeezed its way out from his closed eyes "Merlin, we have to wake him up now, he's crying--"

"Lissy, let me handle this." Merlin's voice was stern, and she met the girl's gaze over the sleeping boy "I'm going to touch him and he won't be happy about it." 

She reached out, then, placing a hand ever-so gently on his shoulder, the older woman shook him just the slightest bit, to no reaction. "David... David, it's Merlin, I need you to wake up.." she squeezed the tense muscle of his shoulder before stroking a hand over his back--

A spark of terror shot through David as he jolted awake, hearing his mother call his name echoing in his ears and the phantom sting of his father's blows against his spine. He couldn't quite focus on where he was, only knowing that he had to get away, he had to move, get away now. 

Stumbling and trembling, unsure of how his weight was being held on his tired legs, he scrambled out of his chair and away from whatever hand had been on him, backing up blindly until his legs hit something, and he braced himself against what might be a desk, was he in the lab? He was at Kingsman-- where was Harry? His trembling hands knocked something glass on the desk behind him and he jumped at the clink and crash.

"GET DOWN"

It was less than a second before a bang deafened the room and David was pushed down to the floor. The panic ebbed and flowed in his veins like a twisted ocean, and David shook against the phantom pains in his back and the very real pain where he'd been shoved down to the concrete of the lab floor. David breathed as deeply as he dared, smelling the harsh chemical burn in the room, trying to calm himself without crying or embarrassing himself further. Heat flushed his cheeks, and all he could think was that he had to be sacked for this-- they wouldn't keep him, he couldn't explain this. 

"What in name of Christ is happening in here?" A new voice boomed over the ringing in his ears, over the haze of smoke, and a man in a finely pressed suit stomped into the room, waving his arms to clear the air. David didn't dare move. This had to be it, there was no way they'd keep him on after this, he'd have to go home. 

"Just a... Just an experiment gone wrong, Sir. My fault, I wasn't paying proper attention." Felicity replied, and David just had to stare, barely refraining from gaping, slack jawed, at the woman. The man, tall and thin, glasses perched on his nose and suit impeccable, raised a brow and David froze when his icy blue eyes flickered down to his.

"I see.. Do go clean yourself up, Darling.... And you must be the new apprentice." There was a curl in his lip when he smiled patronizingly at him. A spark of anger flared up in David's gut, but he bit down on his tongue to hold it in, willing himself not to tremble as he stood up to meet the man, looking him dead in the eyes. 

"David." He introduced himself, sticking out a slightly shaking hand. 

He ignored it "Yes yes-- Merlin!"

"Yes, Agent Galahad?" the older woman was a wreck of rumpled clothes and soot, but she jutted out her chin and stood protectively in front of David and Felicity. She crossed her arms and arched her brow. The man seemed quite ruffled about it.

"Control your rabble-- and see no harm comes to my daughter. I don't let Felicity stay down here so you and your bloody Scotsman can roast her." He turned on his heel, strolling to the door before he turned around, a little smirk fixed on his face. "And, it's not Galahad anymore, since Hart is retiring. You will address me as Arthur." The "or else" was unspoken, but clear. He disappeared down the corridor, and Merlin let out a long sigh. 

"Well, that's that, then." she looked around to David, who was surveying the damage of the blast he caused. 

"I'm.. I'm so sorry, I--"

"You bloody well should be. I mean, what the Hell are you dreaming about, that you wake up and blow things up?!" Felicity glared, imploring him, and David supposed that he must've really pissed her off. He really had nothing to say. He wasn't going to breathe a word about home, he couldn't talk about his dreams-- all the weeks of delicate small talk and holding his coworkers that a distance would mean nothing. 

"Felicity, hold your tongue! You start in on this mess, we'll be back in a mo' " She turned to David, and he was expecting a similar glare, but hadn't prepared himself for the unfamiliar, soft look that was strange to see on the older woman's face. Everything in him battled between the fear of whatever Merlin had planned and the sinking pit of shame in him for making Felicity take the fall for him. She saved his job-- why? Why the Hell would she spare him, after he'd gone and ruined her progress, ruined her desk space, made her look like a fool-- "May I have a word, David?" Merlin reached for his hand, and David pulled back without thinking. She got this pained look in her eye that he recalled from every grade school teacher that hadn't been able to help him in his life, and it stabbed through him with such force he could have doubled over. 

He felt everyone's eyes on him again, and he backed up a couple steps, feeling his ears get hot. Merlin had her hands up in surrender, like he was some skittish animal, and anger flared up in him again, but he paid it no mind. 

"Yeah, we can..." he gestured to the door, watching Merlin smile as she ushered him into the corridor and he followed her lead as they walked side by side through the Headquarters. "Um, where are we--"

"I don't know about you, but I need some fresh air after that ordeal. Yes?" she turned to him as they reached a side exit. She opened the door, and a burst of fall air washed over him, instantly calming as he took a deep breath. "Come along, David." Merlin swept out into the garden before them, winding through the rose bushes and shrubs to a small bench in the sunlight. She sat, and patted the seat beside her. 

Sitting down, David watched her warily, part of him still thinking she might sack him. 

"Well, isn't this lovely?" she sighed, smiling a pinch too forced. David arched an eyebrow at her just the way that she always did to him. The smile dropped in an instant.

"David.. David, Felicity and I have watched you wither away for weeks. You don't owe us a damn thing, Dear, but.... We can't help you if we don't know what's wrong." she sat beside him with her hands twisting around each other like all she wanted to do was touch him, but every shred of motivation and caring in him was sinking like a stone. The exhaustion crept up on him again. 

"I have bad dreams." he replied with no inflection, trying to be as blank and vague as possible. The older woman nodded encouragingly, expecting him to continue, but David just shrugged. 

"Would you like to talk about them--?"

"No, I wouldn't." he cursed himself at the heat welling up in his eyes and tightness in his throat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking down at his knees to hide it. He took a deep breath of cool autumn air, letting the cold sink into his lungs until it burned. 

It was a while before either of them spoke again. They just sat together and watched the shafts of sunlight across the mooreland in the distance. David willed himself not to tremble and most definitely no to cry, as he played over and over the events of the day in his head. Shame clogged his throat like quick-drying cement, and his father's voice echoed in his head, calling him worthless, ungrateful, useless. He would yank fistfuls of his hair, leading him around by it, the rank of his breath sitting like fog against the shell of David's ear made him shudder. His skin crawled, thinking of every night that his father had come into bed with him and held him tight with his rough, wandering hands, claiming his mother'd stopped being able to handle him years ago--

"Are you cold, Dear? Would you like to go in?"

"No!" he snapped a little too fast and desperate, Merlin having dragged him out of his reverie. Felicity couldn't see him like this. "Lissy... She's fuckin' pissed at me, I should just get out of her way...." She was so smart and so lovely, and she'd saved his job at Kingsman, and he'd ruined their friendship already. He had forgotten he wasn't breathing, and took in a gasping breath, trying to ground himself in the here and now, where he was sitting on a bench on a beautiful day with a kind woman who seemed to actually bloody care. He wasn't home. He wasn't there. "I-I.... Why are you so nice to me?" his voice cracked over the word "nice" and he wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed or not.

"David, I care about you-- you're my apprentice. It's my job to teach you, and I can't teach someone who's dead on their feet, falling asleep in my lab, now can I?" She tried to chuckle, but it fell flat for the both of them when his attempt came out as an undeniable sob. "May.. May I touch you, David?"

David had never been one to sit and pity himself, or let his circumstances hold him back. His father was a fucking prick, his mother was constantly ill and losing strength, he had to leave school early, he had scars roping around his back and the phantom pains of improperly healed bones aching under his skin. 

He just hated to complain. That wouldn't get him a single step further than he'd been before, and he had places to go. 

Sometimes he supposed, however, that the pain was worse than others. Sometimes a good cry was as good as it got, and it was even better with someone to hold him through it. He needed to let it out, he needed to decompress or he'd explode. 

He considered saying no, shivering in the fall breeze that wasn't quite cut by the sun's warmth. Goosebumps prickled along his skin under his jumper. The sudden emptiness of being cold and sad was a familiar ache to David, but being alone while sitting right next to a warm human being who fucking cared about him made him miss his Mum too much to be ignored. 

He nodded, and braced himself for the eager hands, only to be surprised by the steady, warm gentleness of her hand as she squeezed the nape of his neck. Comforting heat bloomed from the point of contact, and a tear blurred his gaze before the burning track rolled down his cheek. From there, some sort of inner damn broke, and he sobbed into the open air, letting Merlin wrap her arms around him with kindness that overwhelmed him. 

"Oh, David... I'm so sorry..." She stroked her hand over his back, the other taking his hand as she pulled him close to her. "And as for our mutual friend-- Felicity is not angry. She's scared. You frightened her."

"That... somehow feels worse." he croaked. 

Merlin sighed "Well, it shouldn't. She's strong as a bloody ox, and she's just as stubborn about good things as she is the bad. She was taken with you the moment she saw you, but what makes the real difference is that she wants to like you. Few things could convince her not to, at this point. Any corpses under your bed?"

David let out another ragged chuckle "Well, I'm fucked, you got me there."

"Hey-- don't get cheeky." Merlin quipped, no bite behind her words "Besides, you did next to no damage. That was a prototype flash bomb-- Big bang, no bite. So, don't go beating yourself up for nothing." David's tears started to slow, and his clipped breaths eased under the callused hands of his mentor. Whispering soothing platitudes in the sunlight and the breeze that reminded him to breathe, the exhaustion crashed over him in a warm wave. He pulled away from Merlin, letting her continue to wrap her hands around his as he sniffled and collected himself. 

"T-thank you, Merlin, you didn't have t--"

"Nonsense, Sweet Boy." she smiled softly, before frowning down at his hands, inspecting the calluses and burns and blisters on his palms and fingers. "And what are these?" her voice was sterner, closer to her usual self now. David felt his ears flush and he grimaced sheepishly. Luckily for him, she didn't wait for an answer. "You're taking the weekend off."

"What?!" He tried not to gape "But, I'm so close--"

"Yeah, pretty fucking close to burning all the skin off your hands. What good'll you be for your work, then? Can't pick up a sautering iron, can't write hypotheses. Let yourself heal, and for God's sake, get some rest, David. Don't scare us like this again, try talking about it instead. Yes?" She stood, offering a hand that he didn't even flinch from, looking him dead in the eyes with a gaze that left no room for argument. He nodded reluctantly, not wanting to admit just how lovely the idea of sleep-- real sleep-- was. Merlin grinned and he had to smile back, just the slightest bit. "Come on, then. You've got a young woman to apologize to, and I've got a jet engine calling my name." 

As they walked back to the lab, David paused, remembering something the new Arthur had mentioned. 

"So, the new Arthur is Felicity's dad?" Merlin grimaced. 

"Yes, he is, and he won't let any of us forget it, believe you me." her lips were pursed and eyes hard. "I've been working with that lass for damn near nine full years-- since she could get her little fingers on a chemistry set, and her father still refuses her even the slightest bit of recognition. That poison pen? Felicity's invention. My name is on it, because her father is so obsessed with hiding her and her talent away." Merlin shook her head sadly as they reached the door "I shouldn't have told you any of that, so try not to mention it-- especially to her. She'll rant and rave for hours."

He nodded, swallowing his pride and going to join Felicity with a broom in hand. 

There were a long few moments just standing beside her, sweeping the soot and debris as she scrubbed down the desktop. He could feel her eyes on him on three separate occasions, so maybe he was counting, maybe his heart fluttered a little. That wasn't important. His stomach clenched with the anxiety and the guilt and David took until long after the last of it was cleaned away before speaking. 

"I'm... Felicity, I'm so sorry I ruined your work, and scared you, and..."

"Stop it." He looked up and finally met her eyes, the tremble coming back into his fingers. She sounded angry, but when he saw her, she only looked exasperated, with a slight, disbelieving smile curving her lips crookedly. "You made a mess-- thank you for apologizing. Thank you for helping clean it. But David, I don't know what's wrong, and it hurts to watch you hurt like this. You're one of the smartest and bloody stupidest people I've ever met..." She trailed off, shaking her head, dropping her cleaning cloth and stepping closer to him. "I'm done with the self depricating bullshit, I'm done with you slowly falling apart, and I'm fucking done with you holding me and Merlin at such a distance." She sighed, but her eyes got softer as she put a hand around where his gripped the broom. "I know I can't make you talk to me about it, and I don't want to. I just want you to be comfortable, I want to be your friend." Then she smiled that beautifully crooked smile, and David blamed the exhaustion when he felt a little weak in the knees. 

"I-I- I'm sorry..."

"No more apologies. What are you doing tonight?" 

He could have sworn his heart stopped. David was slack jawed and in awe, gripping a stupid broom like it was rooting him to the Earth. The young woman raised an eyebrow, smile still firmly in place. 

"N-nothing, I suppose... Harr- Galahad, he left for his mission, so I guess I'll be.... sleeping?" it turned out phrased like a question, and his ears were red, and he stumbled all over his words. 

"Well, we all know how good you are at sleeping.... Do you want me to keep you company? I-I obviously couldn't stay all night-- I want you to keep your job, and well, you've met my charming father-- but, I don't like you being all alone..." 

Her smile drooped to something concerned and he couldn't help the flutter in his chest as he gave a stilted nod and her grin was blinding.


End file.
